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<title>of course i know about weed brownies; i'm a thousand years old by snowspring (scoups_ahoy)</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22919746">of course i know about weed brownies; i'm a thousand years old</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/scoups_ahoy/pseuds/snowspring'>snowspring (scoups_ahoy)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>VIXX</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Crack, Fluff, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Slice of Life, chaebol!jaehwan, goblin au, goblin!taekwoon, reaper!hongbin, stoner!wonshik</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 05:46:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,969</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22919746</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/scoups_ahoy/pseuds/snowspring</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>goblin!taekwoon gets sick of wonshik accidentally summoning him every time he gets high.</p><p>aka the cracky goblin au nobody asked for.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jung Taekwoon | Leo/Kim Wonshik | Ravi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>of course i know about weed brownies; i'm a thousand years old</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i've been watching goblin with a bunch of stoner starlights and we came up with this so.</p><p>as usual this is not extensively edited nor beta-read!</p><p>enjoy! &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The first time it happens, Taekwoon blames it on happenstance.  How could Wonshik know that blowing out a match would summon him?  Especially if he’s using said match to “blaze up”, as Jaehwan so helpfully puts it later, he probably isn’t thinking about much else.  So it really is not a big deal and since they don’t know each other that well, Taekwoon doesn’t especially feel the need to complain about it.  He’s been alive for centuries in this bizarre, ageless limbo for long enough that, really, in the grand scheme of things, one accidental summoning is nothing.  He merely gives Wonshik a tired smile as he tightens the cinch on his favorite fluffy robe, trying not to glance around in disgust at his husband-to-be’s, er, </span>
  <em>
    <span>humble</span>
  </em>
  <span> abode.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wonshik just smirks and holds out the joint, seemingly taking Taekwoon’s wet hair and general nakedness, beneath said fluffy robe, in stride.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>At least I had this on before he blew out the match.  That could’ve been interesting.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  “Want some?” Wonshik asks, showing his teeth in a small but nonetheless goofy grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s endearing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uncle, since when do you smoke weed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taekwoon jumps at the sound of Jaehwan’s voice and turns around to find the young man watching him from the couch with too much excitement in his wide eyes.  God, he’d really hoped Jaehwan would be asleep by now, since apparently Wonshik smokes at the most ungodly hours known to man, but of course his luck isn’t that great.  So here he is, standing in the doorway of his own home, four a.m., accosted by his pretend nephew with the strong scent of weed rolling off his clothes even though he didn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>touch</span>
  </em>
  <span> a damn joint.  “Is that any way to speak to your elder, kid?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaehwan rolls his eyes as he moves from the couch, crossing the living room in a few long strides.  “Like you’ve ever cared before, uncle. Besides,” a sly grin touches his lips and Taekwoon wants to smack it, “if you’re high…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not high!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice try.  I could smell it from across the living room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fucking Wonshik.  </span>
  </em>
  <span>“It’s not mine,” he grumbles.  “Wonshik lit a joint and when he blew out the match… well, it summoned me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaehwan studies him with a raised brow and pursed lips for a moment.  “So your husband smokes weed, but not you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s not my husband,” Taekwoon sighs.  “Not technically anyway. But yes, he does.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’re not </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually </span>
  </em>
  <span>cool.  Just the same boring old goblin uncle you’ve always been.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to get smacked, kid?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaehwan literally, truly sticks his tongue out at him.  “That’s child abuse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This fucking…</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Child abu - ?  You’re twenty-eight years old, Jaehwan.  Christ.” Pain throbs above his eyebrow and Taekwoon lifts a hand to try and rub it out before it becomes a full-fledged forehead.  “I’m going to bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Might wanna throw those clothes in the wash before the weed smell really sets in!” Jaehwan sing-songs as Taekwoon walks up the stairs, trying to ignore him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He does throw the clothes in the washer though.  Just to be safe. Can’t have a goblin going around smelling like weed; it’ll ruin his reputation.  Even though the smell is almost comforting in a weird way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because it reminds him of Wonshik.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next few times it happens, Taekwoon blames it on experimentation.  Apparently Wonshik’s been trying to figure out if that first time had been a fun coincidence and spends his day off from work lighting and blowing out matches.  As one does. After the fourth summoning that day, Taekwoon tries explaining gently that it was not a coincidence, to which Wonshik pouts. Actually pouts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay but… maybe I don’t want you around every time I get high,” he says as he sits up in bed, tossing the freshly extinguished match in the bin across the room.  He rubs at his eyes for a moment before looking back at Taekwoon with a heavy sigh. “You’re like - uptight. And judgmental.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Jaehwan’s been saying for the last decade or so, however long he’s been pretending to be his nephew.  Which Taekwoon expects from him, especially since they were practically family. But to hear it from Wonshik, his mythologically arranged husband?  The only person in the world who could save him from his fate? He bristles at the words, knowing how true they are. “I am not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wonshik shrugs.  “If you say so. But anyway: is there a way you could just… not appear when I blow out a match?  Or I could tell you when it’s okay for you to be here? Like when I need you I can use one brand of matches and then when I get high I can use another brand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Believe it or not,” Taekwoon bites out, “I don’t think ancient godly curses can be circumvented by different brands of matches.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.”  Wonshik sighs again as he reaches for his stash.  “How about this: if I light a match while you’re here will you disappear?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Try it and see,” Taekwoon snaps, knowing full well what the outcome would be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wonshik, however, pouts once more when he realizes that his completely logical theory doesn’t work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shocker.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He summoned you </span>
  <em>
    <span>how?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Taekwoon huffs a sigh at the newcomer standing in his doorway, apparently home from work, dressed in all black from head to toe, clutching that insufferably stupid hat in his hands.  Next to Taekwoon on the couch, Jaehwan grins madly, obviously still enjoying this too much, especially after tonight’s round of stories. And the reaper in the doorway (who insists his name is Hongbin but Taekwoon refuses to call him that, even after they’ve become roommates) looks like he’s fighting a grin too.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s a good thing Wonshik’s cute.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“His husband’s a stoner!” Jaehwan fills in not so helpfully around a bright laugh.  “All these centuries and the one person that can see the damned sword spends his days blazing up!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hongbin smirks, turning to hang his hat on the rack beside the front door.  “How fun for you, goblin.” Then, looking back at Taekwoon with that unendurable smirk still plastered on his face, “Think about it this way: at least you get to see him often, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that supposed to be a benefit?” Taekwoon sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah come on,” Hongbin says as he comes to sit in the chair opposite the couch, propping his fucking boots on the thirty-six </span>
  <em>
    <span>million</span>
  </em>
  <span> won table Taekwoon purchased last century, still smirking as he does so.  “You like him, right? Then what’s the issue?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taekwoon sighs.  He doesn’t want to discuss this with anyone, let alone these two.  But apparently he doesn’t have a choice. “There’s not really an issue.  I just… I foresee it </span>
  <em>
    <span>becoming</span>
  </em>
  <span> one.  For example, today he was messing around and ended up summoning me four separate times.  I mean, I’m busy. He can’t be doing that all the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hongbin scoffs.  “Busy doing what?  Brooding over your immortality?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Is he serious?  </span>
  </em>
  <span>“I’ll have you know, </span>
  <em>
    <span>reaper</span>
  </em>
  <span> - “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, uncle,” Jaehwan says quietly, always a peacemaker with the two of them - as if preternatural beings can't solve their own issues (surprise surprise: they can't) -  and Taekwoon looks at him with a sigh. “Cut Wonshik some slack and be cool about this. There’s nothing wrong with smoking weed - “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never said there was; I just don’t want him accidentally summoning me every time he gets high.  It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>annoying.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaehwan shrugs, a smile forming on his lips again, and Taekwoon doesn’t like it.  “It wouldn’t be annoying to you if you smoked with him. Just saying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s true,” Hongbin chimes in and Taekwoon wishes Wonshik would just take the fucking sword from his chest right now so he could finally die and stop dealing with this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Five times quickly turns into six turns into ten turns into fifteen and Taekwoon stops counting after he’s been summoned three times in an hour one night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this all you do?!” he demands, pacing across Wonshik’s dilapidated living room for the umpteenth time since arriving.  He knows it’s all going in one ear and out the other with Wonshik though, since he’s currently stoned out of his mind, giggling at something invisible Taekwoon now wants to punch.  “We met maybe a month ago and I’ve been here four million times because all you do is get high!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wonshik giggles again, lifting the joint to his lips for another deep drag.  His handsome, delighted face would be cute if Taekwoon wasn’t so upset. “Jesus, lay off, Woon.  You can have some if you want! I bet it’d do you wonders.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rolling his eyes, Taekwoon ceases his pacing and comes to a stop in front of the couch Wonshik lounges on.  “For the last time, I don’t want any! I just want to eat one fucking meal without you lighting a single match!  God.” He rakes a hand through his hair, hating the blissfully stupid look on Wonshik’s face, and groans. “Why can’t you bake brownies or something?  Why does it have to be joints?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wonshik’s eyes go wide and he sits forward, staring intently - well, as intently as he can in his current state - at Taekwoon.  “Wait,” he says, and his voice has even dropped into a more serious tone, leaving Taekwoon hoping for a more sober Wonshik than the one he currently has.  But of course that hope goes rejected, because the next words out of Wonshik’s mouth are, “You know about weed brownies?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Augh!”</span>
  </em>
  <span>  The anguished noise leaves Taekwoon’s lips before he can stop it and he really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> wants to go back home and drown his sorrows in the fried chicken Hongbin brought home.  The fried chicken he’d been reaching for when Wonshik blew out that third fucking match and he’d wanted to cry in frustration.  “Of course I know about weed brownies, Wonshik; I’m a thousand years old! God but that’s not even the point!” He takes a deep, slow breath to calm down because getting angry won’t help the situation at all.  Unfortunately. “The point is, you obviously have a problem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm.  Or are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> the one with the problem?” Wonshik asks before taking another drag, looking so proud of himself.  Like he’d figured out the answer to a philosophical question that's been plaguing mankind for generations.  “Smoke with me. You need it!” he sing-songs, waving the joint in his hand. “Come on, you’ve been alive for way too long.  Being a goblin must be tough; get high! You only live once. Or in your case, once but a really long fucking time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something throbs above Taekwoon’s eyebrow painfully as Wonshik descends into loud cackles and he groans.  “I’m leaving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That sobers him, at least a bit, and he scrambles up from the couch on wobbly legs, soft brown eyes bloodshot and pleading.  Beseeching. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Goddamn it.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  “Please don’t!  Uh. I mean. Please stay?  We can watch a movie or something.  And um, we can order chicken from that place you like.”  He looks bashful now, lips curled up in that stupid cute smile he knows Taekwoon can’t say no to.  Even after a single month. “I usually get </span>
  <em>
    <span>insanely</span>
  </em>
  <span> hungry after a few joints, so…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Taekwoon finally teleports home that night the digital clock in the living room reads </span>
  <em>
    <span>00:23</span>
  </em>
  <span> and Hongbin looks up from the television with a smirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You smell awful, goblin,” he says.  “How’s the husband?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taekwoon scowls at him, snarling a “shut up, reaper” that’s more tired than it is harsh as he slinks up the stairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He decides that maybe he won’t pop his clothes in the washer though.  At least not right away; beneath the smell of joints Taekwoon catches a whiff of the cologne Wonshik wears.  It’s warm and familiar, like comfort food. Like Wonshik himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Taekwoon likes it.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you for reading!  i'll update when i can! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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